New Year's Eve
by noddyuk
Summary: A Hustle fic set with the latest crew. A new grifter enters the crew's lives unexpectedly and asks for their help.
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1**

New Year's bloody Eve. She hated New Year's Eve. It was the one night of the year where it was almost obligatory to go out and enjoy yourself. Sitting at home quietly or having an early night was not an option. No, no, the unwritten rule was that on 31st December you MUST go out and you MUST get legless and you MUST have fun! So there they were, what seemed like the entire adult population of London all rammed into bars and clubs, getting completely hammered on fizz that they probably knew was twice the price they would have paid any other night of the year. Hoards of people determined to enjoy themselves.

Still, there was one consolation. Very drunk men were much easier to dip than sober ones. Not only did they not feel her hand slip into their jacket – and if they did a wink and an almost imperceptible parting of her lips often threw them enough to put them off the scent – but they couldn't focus properly anyway. She giggled to herself as she imagined any of them trying to pick her out of a line-up. "Well officer, it's a bit difficult to tell because at the time there appeared to be three of her…"

On balance, as much as she hated the evening there was more money to be made in an hour towards the end of New Year's Eve than a month of Friday nights put together.

So here she was, making the best of a bad thing. And they were particularly odious in the bar she'd chosen this year. Loads of raucous, beery, jumped up City boys; all bad hair, fat ties, shiny suits and over-powering cologne. Yeuch! As she scanned the room, glass of vinegary house white in hand, her eyes lit on two men sitting at the bar. She noticed they appeared to be scoping the room in much the same way she was. They looked different to the rest of the crowd: better looking, older, and definitely better dressed. On another night, under different circumstances… she shook herself mentally. Back to the job in hand. The quicker she worked the room, the quicker she'd be back in her warm, comfy bed.

Sitting in the cab on the way home forty-five minutes later she felt pleased at her night's work. The revellers had been as ripe for the picking as she'd hoped, she'd only been groped by a couple of them and she'd managed to find a free taxi just five minutes after she'd left the bar. She had been about to call it a night when she'd decided to set herself a little challenge – it was important to keep on your toes when you'd found your prey as easy as this. She'd decided to try her luck with one of the two she'd noticed at the bar. Now in the safety of the cab she smiled to herself as she felt his wallet in her coat pocket and felt the colour rising to her cheeks. She hadn't expected him to smell so good when she'd pressed her body up against his, and she wasn't ready for the bolt of electricity that had shot through her when their eyes met and she saw how brilliantly blue his were. For such a brief encounter he'd made quite an impression on her.

Back home she sat on her bed and went through the wallets. Cash in one pile; credit cards in another; library cards, gym membership cards, donor cards etc launched into the wastepaper basket on the other side of the room. She came to the wallet she'd left until last, felt the soft leather in her hands, lifted it to her nose and took in the intoxicating mixture of leather and 'him'. As the contents dropped onto her bed she picked up a credit card and had to catch her breath as she saw the name it carried.

He lay in bed contemplating the previous evening. New Year's Eve was always a good night for going out checking out marks and pulling a few short cons on people too drunk to remember their own names. They'd done well, come away with a thick wodge of notes, and he'd even got a midnight kiss from some bird who'd momentarily misplaced her fella. He couldn't even be cross that he'd managed to lose his own wallet. He knew who'd done it. He'd guessed straight away what her game was when she'd sat surveying the room before she moved around it carefully and virtually unseen. She was very cute, she looked sharp as a tack, and she worked the room like a pro.

There was a knock at the door of the Penthouse. He listened out for movement but hearing none he figured Mickey really HAD gone out for the morning run he'd sworn he would go on the night before. Nutter! Albert had decided to spend New Year working the casinos in Vegas, and Sean and Emma were visiting friends, so he was alone. He struggled out of bed, threw on a pair of jeans and a shirt and padded across the room to open the door.

The girl stood there, slightly flushed, but smiling and holding his wallet. She looked up at him shyly.

"Ash Morgan? I think I have something that belongs to you…"


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

Ash was more pleased to see her standing there than he cared to admit. It made him even happier to see her holding his wallet – and he was prepared to bet his take from last night that it contained the same amount of money now as when she'd taken it. He opened the door wider to let her inside.

She took a good look around the Penthouse and whistled inwardly as she slipped the wallet back into her jacket pocket. She thought about her little flat in a far less salubrious part of London - if this was what running long cons got you she was definitely in the wrong game.

"Drink?"

She thought for a second. To booze or not to booze. For some reason the idea of watching Ash 'Three Socks' Morgan make her a cup of tea tickled her immensely, and she was always mindful of alcohol making her too relaxed and the danger of giving too much away. She knew that what happened next could change everything. She also knew, though, that tea wouldn't do much to prevent the nervous energy currently racing through her body from moving to her hands. On a totally superficial level she fancied the pants off him, but now the chance to get to know him, to get even a tiny insight into what went on in that brain was too good an opportunity to pass up.

"Thanks. What have you got?"

"Pretty much anything you fancy, apart from Absinthe."

She raised her eyebrows…

Ash grimaced and shook his head, "Absinthe… Sean… a balloon whisk… it all got very messy. I could tell you more but then I'd have to kill you."

She laughed, "OK, I'll chance a scotch on the rocks."

Drink in hand she followed him out onto the balcony and sat next to him on the bench facing the surrounding rooftops. It was a mild day for January and the weak winter sun was adding a benign glow to the sky. They sat and contemplated the London skyline. Although they didn't know it they were both thinking the same thing, marvelling at a view that neither would ever tire of, and very, very aware of the other's proximity. Finally she took the wallet back out of her pocket and held it out for him. Ash looked at the wallet and then at the girl as he took it from her hand.

"Sorry." She said. "I'm not in the habit of ripping off grifters."

"Why'd you bring it back?"

"Well…" she looked at him, "Your mate from last night was Michael Stone, right?"

Ash nodded.

"You two are pretty much legends – the grifters the rest of us only wish we could be..." She broke off laughing, embarrassed and slapped her palm to her forehead. "God, sorry. What a simpering twit."

"Don't mind me. Mention my legendary sex appeal and you can have another drink."

She fingered her whisky glass nervously and hoped her face wasn't as red as it felt. If only he knew…

"Seriously, if you were a footballer you'd be Ryan Giggs."

"A hairy bloke with no personality?"

"Ha! No… how can I put it… 'a master of technique and a role model for us lesser mortals'."

She let her intense embarrassment sit in the air before she decided to plow on.

"Being as you are who you are, I knew you'd find out who I was sooner rather than later. Returning it seemed like the sensible option. If I've learned one thing over the years it's that you should never, ever piss off a fellow grifter. You never know when it'll come back and bite you on the bum… or when you might need their help"

Ash noted the after-thought to the sentence but decided not to pursue it for now. "Well thank you."

"Besides, I don't suit concrete boots. Converse are much more my thing for daywear," she said, waving a foot airily in his direction.

Ash took on a look of mock indignation "We're not the bleedin' mafia you know."

"Really? I heard Mickey did time for attacking someone with a baseball bat?"

"Yeah, but that was a crime of passion. I don't like my wallet THAT much."

They both laughed.

Ash sneaked a glance. Her whole face had lit up as she laughed. His curiosity had been piqued and he wanted to know more about her, but something was holding him back. She was like a beautifully wrapped present underneath the Christmas tree. The promise of what was inside was almost the best thing about it. When you finally saw what it contained you could end up delighted, but there was always the danger of real disappointment.

"So was last night a one off? You ever do long cons?"

"Nah. I always think I'll start doing them when I grow up… it just doesn't seem to have happened yet."

"Delayed gratification, that's what the long con is all about. You don't get the immediate thrill of a pocket full of cash when you go home at the end of every day, but the buzz is so much better. It's about having the right people around you. That's Mickey's job, of course. That and working out the plan. I'm more of a grafter than a grifter."

She exploded with laughter and elbowed him playfully in the ribs "Oh spare me the false modesty! Everyone says Mickey wouldn't be half as good as he is if he didn't have you in his team. The con is an art form. I'm still working with chunky crayons and trying to keep inside the lines"

Ash laughed quietly to himself.

"What's so funny?"

"Someone I used to know used to say the same thing about long cons. You just remind me of her…"

"In a good way…?"

Ash looked at her and held her gaze "Yes, in a very good way…"

After a while they lapsed into companionable silence. She finished her drink and, happy that some ground work had been laid, decided to make her move. Standing up she laid a hand gently on his shoulder.

"Thanks for the drink. I'd better go. You know, things to do, people to avoid, piles of cash to bank."

As they got to the door she turned. She clearly had something on her mind.

"Did you know it was me who'd taken your wallet?"

Ash nodded.

"When did you realise?"

"Not until I tried to pay for a drink, but you'd left by then."

She tried to stop the smile from betraying her feelings but couldn't stop the pride from showing all over her face. Not only had she dipped Ash Morgan but he hadn't even realised.

"So, are you going to tell me your name then, or do I have to use my grifting super-powers to find it out?"

"Ash Morgan in tights and a cape? Blimey! Well, as tempting as that is… I'm Leigh," and she held out her hand.

He took her hand in his, "Well thank you for returning my wallet, Leigh."

Before she could think better of it she leaned forward and kissed him gently on the cheek. "Thanks for not using me to prop up a new concrete bridge."

As casually as she could, Leigh turned and walked down the corridor towards the lift. She even managed to keep her cool when she passed Mickey Bricks who did a double take. He walked towards the Penthouse where Ash was still standing in the doorway. Where had he seen her before, what was she doing coming out of the Penthouse and why did Ash look like he was going to keep Mickey in the dark?


End file.
